Kuuhaku
by demongoddess
Summary: {I hear your voice / I see the face behind it / and in your eyes I see the blankest beauty / I wonder what's behind it / and there's a sadness in your eyes / and there's a blankness in your smile / and then I hear your voice} Slight angst. Oneshot.
1. All That's Left

A little ache rings in my chest,  
Every time I open my eyes  
To see the world around me.  
And for every extra breath I take,  
It hurts a little more.  
  
A little voice nags in my mind,  
Tugging at loose ends.  
I try to find the strength within,  
But with each minute that yields more pain,  
It nags a bit some more.  
  
A coat of painted trust thrust around my soul   
Chips away discreetly.  
And for every time I speak with Death,  
Each moment delved in pity,  
The paints chip away some more.  
  
An outstretched hand flickers on the shores,  
Offering light to my dark island.  
But it's so far and faint,   
And for each time I reach for it,  
It fades away some more.  
  
A figure stares through cool, cracked glass;  
She watches through a slide of crystal.  
And for every time I wonder who's more real,  
She cracks a little more. 


	2. Faceless Shadow

Disclaimer: I don't own Rekka no Honou (Flame of Recca), and I don't even mention any names in this.  
  
A/N: This was inspired by a FoR fic I read. It started out as a spin-off from that story, but I've decided to come up with my own ideas after this chapter.  
  
Kuuhaku  
Those eyes. Those vibrant, shimmering pools of glowing flames. My sweeping glance stops as they stare back at me unblinkingly.   
  
She's so beautiful. Such a divine creature, with her rich hair and shapely eyes. Why did it never occur to me how precious she was? How did she become such a striking figure? And most of all, how could I have missed her lovely smile? That charmingly tender grin (of sorts) that lightens the air and earth around her.  
  
It's impossible for another to be out there like her. So elegant and delicate, like fine china. Her ivory hand brushes back a glossy strand of locks behind her ears, but it falls back into its original place stubbornly. It suits her.   
  
The freezing tips of my fingers reach out to touch her cheek. I want to know her secret, I want to understand. I crave to comprehend how she shines with such brilliance, when I am confined to the darkness around me.  
  
Something about her is so special, something that separates her from the rest. Is it her charisma? No doubt her spirit takes part in this. Her unconquerable flame of determination - really, she can make that stubborn streak and irrationality seem heavenly.   
  
I'm not sure what amazes me more: her being or her ability to maintain everything I managed to lose. Everything that is still slipping from my grasp. And yet, she still has it all.   
  
Everything.  
  
And as I look upon myself, I draw back in envy and disgust. Look at me, my pale skin, not fit for even the most haggard ill. My dull, almost blank eyes of unfeeling comprehension. They could never compare to the sun-kissed complexion and blazing pure pools that goddess wears. I cast my eyes downward and cringe, then shredded the sorrow and fed it to my anger. I snap my head back up at her boldly, curling my fist in anger as my uneven nails dig into my palms.  
  
So this is what I've become. This is the cruel monster I've transformed into, the unfeeling being I know I am. And for the first time in my life, I know the true pain of being alone.   
  
It doesn't feel so bad, I swallow the sticky bitterness that lingers in my mouth. I can't really smell it. After all, the stench of the carrion around me had been loitering around me aimlessly for days already.  
  
I look up again at her. Her. She's the one nightmare that haunts me to no end. A nightmare that shifts between a figment of imagination and a harsh reality.  
  
I glare at her with all that's left in me, and she's staring right back unflinchingly. The laughter in her clear eyes mocks my very existence. She's laughing, laughing at my misery. My hard eyes scrutinize her being with shameless contempt. I can't bear to see her. I can't stand her presence because she is perfection itself. Drawing my fist back in fury, I throw my hardest punch, and she shatters into millions of little, sharp fragments.  
  
It's not fair. She's so pretty. So smart. So brave. So caring and gentle. So loveable, warming everyone with her radiance. She's everything I'm not.  
  
I glare at the remaining shards of what was once a mirror. My eyes soften and glaze over as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the broken mirror.  
  
And the sad thing is...  
...she used to be me. 


End file.
